


Inheriting the Throne

by misumaru



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Before Crisis (Compilation of FFVII) Spoilers, Frottage, M/M, Post-Game, Rufus Shinra has Daddy Issues, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24605245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misumaru/pseuds/misumaru
Summary: On the day of his father's funeral, Rufus decides to celebrate in his office in a distinctly disrespectful style.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Kudos: 48
Collections: Season of Kink





	Inheriting the Throne

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've actively written for this fandom, but Remake was really good for the Turks, so... For the 'Places' square on my Season of Kink card, beta by the wonderful LdyBastet! :)

The old man’s funeral had been just as long as Rufus had expected, and just as frustrating. All of Midgar’s great and good had rolled out in their finery to pay their respects to the former President – not out of any affection for the man, of that Rufus was certain, but to see and be seen.

At least no-one had expected him to cry. His cold expression had been taken as one of stoicism, a dutiful son taking on the burden of running the company after his father’s tragic and untimely death. Not untimely enough, in Rufus’ opinion. Nobody had seen it for what it actually was – boredom – not even when he’d threatened to crack a yawn during yet another interminable speech.

The other directors had been present and correct, bar Hojo – Rufus wasn’t sure what it would take to drag that man out of his lab, but it probably wouldn’t be pleasant finding out. Not to mention the man was a publicity nightmare. Heidegger, however, had done his part to keep up the little narrative he and the old man had cooked up, blaming the death on AVALANCHE and Wutai and barely restraining himself at the end of his speech from letting out one of those stupid horse laughs that Rufus was sure would be the cause of so many headaches in future.

Honestly, _this_ was who his father had chosen to surround himself with? It was a miracle he’d stayed in power.

Still, it was over now. He’d done the requisite amount of nodding along to people’s sympathies, paid lip service to the city’s loss, and had been finally able to retreat back to the relative solitude of the President’s office.

_His_ office. The thought wouldn’t stop bringing a smile to his lips for quite some time.

It wasn’t perfect though. There was still a dark patch of blood staining the carpet near the desk where its previous occupant had fallen. It had been cleaned, thoroughly, but it just refused to shift - that and the traces of the sickly ooze that had marked Jenova’s deadly trail to the office. He could still see a faint yet disturbing glow when the light caught it the wrong way. The carpet would have to be replaced. Hell, the whole room should be redecorated when he found the time. It was his now, wasn’t it? Why should he be forced to endure his father’s rather boring tastes?

He had just leaned back in his seat and started mentally repainting the walls when a buzz came from the intercom. Rufus frowned. He’d asked to be alone. Surely the directors would have enough sense to respect that on the day of his father’s funeral, at least? Then again, would any of those idiots bother to announce themselves first? They’d probably just barge right in… 

Rufus flipped on the intercom switch. “This had better be good.”

“Sir.”

He couldn’t help the sigh of relief as Tseng’s voice filtered through, letting him in right away. Then it was just the matter of waiting as Tseng crossed the cavernous room. At least it gave Rufus time to indulge in the sight of Tseng’s sleek form as he approached the desk. Few people could pull off a suit the way he could. 

“I was concerned it was Heidegger. How did you enjoy the funeral?”

The Turks had been behind the scenes overseeing security – after all, a gathering of so many rich and powerful people would be the perfect opportunity for a terrorist attack. Or at least it would be if the terrorists in question hadn’t already left the city. True, the main AVALANCHE cell remained, but Rufus was certain they wouldn’t be a problem for much longer. Maybe a couple of smaller incidents to help allay suspicion, but after that…

Tseng’s expression remained impassive. “A sombre occasion. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear there was no trouble.”

“Thrilled. Although I admit I was far more worried about a horde of illegitimate children suddenly showing up to claim their due.”

Tseng raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Why would he? The former President’s affairs were fairly common knowledge – Rufus suspected he never would know exactly how many half-brother and sisters he had. Quite frankly, he would prefer never to find out.

“If it helps, you had the better job. At least you weren’t stuck listening to Heidegger and Scarlet cackling at each other all day. Or seeing just what Palmer does to his tea.”

The sight of Palmer dropping a fat lump of lard into his tea had done an excellent job of putting Rufus off the drink for life, to point where he was thinking it might be a good idea to ban anything but water from the boardroom. 

Tseng had drawn in closer to the desk. Close enough for Rufus to reach out and grab him, if he wanted. If anyone else had been in the room, they’d have been questioning such impropriety, but Rufus simply wondered why it had taken him so long. 

“I’m aware. If I may be frank, sir, I’m surprised you haven’t made moves to replace them all already.”

“I’m tempted. But haven’t you ever heard the saying, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?”

“Not too close, I hope.”

“Jealous?” One of Rufus’ hands reached up and tangled itself in a lock of Tseng’s hair, bringing him down to eye level. 

A smile passed Tseng’s lips – probably picturing Heidegger in all of his blustering glory. “Hardly.”

“Then prove it.”

The problem, Rufus realised as he dragged Tseng forwards for a harsh kiss, was that his outfit wasn’t exactly designed for a quick fuck. Not that Rufus usually minded – he liked making people work for it, enjoyed that little extra feeling of power. Sometimes though… At least Tseng’s suit was easy to remove, a few deft movements exposing his well-toned chest to the room. Even when mostly confined to his desk with paperwork, Tseng liked to stay in shape. Then all it took was one smooth motion and Tseng was sitting in Rufus’ lap, helping to undo the complicated series of belts and straps.

What would his father say if he could see him now? Given the sheer number of secretaries the old man had had his way with, he wouldn’t have had much room to talk, but how would he feel knowing his son was finally in the place of power where he belonged, enjoying himself with his favourite subordinate? It proved impossible to bite back the laugh that bubbled up at the thought.

“Sir?”

“Forget it.” Rufus nipped at Tseng’s jawline. “Keep going.”

Eventually, Tseng had enough of Rufus exposed to start running his hands over his chest and down to Rufus’ already hard cock, the flushed head standing out starkly compared to the white of his suit. Rufus moaned his encouragement, continuing to pepper Tseng’s neck with little nips and bites. He could already picture how Tseng would be vainly trying to cover them up the next day, how he’d have to pull more of that wonderful long hair forward for Rufus’ enjoyment. Maybe he should plan an executive meeting just to see it. 

The president’s chair was comfortable, but didn’t leave much room to manoeuvre. Perhaps that was another thing to replace, maybe with something with a little more… leg room. Still, it served its purpose, the lack of space helping to keep them locked tightly together as they moved. Rufus rocked his hips up much as he could manage, savouring the slick slide as their cocks rubbed together, while Tseng, ever attentive, slipped a hand between their bodies and started to stroke. Another thing the endless paperwork hadn’t robbed him of – Tseng was very skilled with his hands. Maybe it was something Rufus should be more wary of, the way Tseng could leave him utterly boneless with a few deft motions, but it felt too damn good for him to care. Besides, what was life without a little risk? 

The office was steadily filled with their harsh pants and the wet noise as Tseng continued to move his hand over their cocks. It was definitely something Rufus could get used to, something he would have to indulge in more often now that the room was officially his. But then with a sudden twist of Tseng’s fingers it was over, Rufus seeing stars at the sudden rush of pleasure. 

A shame, but nothing lasted forever. The old man learned that the hard way. As Tseng produced a handkerchief somewhere from the recesses of his discarded suit and started to fastidiously clean off his hand, Rufus motioned to the desk behind them. “It’s a shame about those monitors. The chair’s nice, but it would be far more comfortable if I could just throw you down on the desk.”

“I believe my desk is fairly clear at the moment.”

Rufus raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting something?”

“Just stating the facts.” The slightest of grin’s crossed Tseng’s face. “Sir.”

“Hm. Perhaps I’ll have to pay your office a visit soon. A presidential inspection is about due, correct?”

“I’ll ensure my paperwork is neatly filed away in anticipation.” 

With that, Tseng pulled away, neatly rebuttoning his suit with the same grace he’d entered the room with before leaving Rufus on his own once again. 

Rufus leaned back in his chair again and sighed. That, in Rufus’ opinion, had definitely been a far more appropriate way to honour the old bastard. What better way to show his disdain than by making sure that the office was definitely, thoroughly his now? Even as he thought that though, his eye caught a patch of carpet, the one with the particularly stubborn bloodstain.

Rufus curled his lip. Yes. It was definitely time to redecorate.


End file.
